


Producers XIII

by kataistalla



Category: Final Fantasy XIII Series, The Producers (2005)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Parody
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 05:15:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1497988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kataistalla/pseuds/kataistalla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noel Kreiss is a down on his luck Broadway producer.  After meeting accountant Hope Estheim, he hatches a scheme to strike it rich, put on the worst play ever and collect the profits.  What could go wrong?</p>
<p>The Final Fantasy XIII cast as The Producers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The house lights came on, the orchestra had played their last note long ago. The red curtain remained closed, the stage lights off. There would be no curtain call tonight, the hissing of the audience scaring most of them back to their dressing rooms. L’cie What You Did Last Summer, A Musical Comedy was by all accounts a failure of epic proportions. The theater staff was already putting up the “Closing Night” signs over the “Opening Night” ones. It was standard procedure for any production with his name attached to it.

His name was Noel, Noel Kreiss. Once upon a time he had been the biggest name in musical theater. His productions were famous, lasting for years on stage. The audience would leave in stitches. That was long ago. Now his name was famous for flops, the worst producer around they would say. His name a joke on the great white way. Still, he persisted. Flop after flop after flop, he never gave up.

Noel never stuck around for the play, ever since that one incident at the production of Mewmaos. It was a miracle he got out at all with the way the crowd was calling for his head. Instead, he would wait for the reviews in the comfort of his office/home. It was a simple office, a leather couch sat in the center of the room. The red leather cracked, faded with time and use. At one end, a plain wooden desk, piled high with yellowing paper. The matching chair creaking under his weight. Props, papers, posters and books littered the tiny office. Dirt clung to the small square window, allowing only a hazy glow of the street lamps outside. Inside, sickly yellow light from the bare incandescent light bulb in the center of the room. A long steel chain turned it on and off. Framed posters of his glory days hung across the graying walls. The bare wooden floors desperately needed a waxing. He waited patiently for the newspapers to be delivered. There would be the familiar knock on the door, Noel would make his way over, picking up the papers and casually dumped them in the wastepaper basket. No news was good news, and he hated to read bad news. He made his way to the standing porcelain sink, splashing cold water on his face, oiled brown hair clinging to his scalp. Another flop for the man who once was king of old Broadway.


	2. Chapter One

The next day, Noel awoke to a rhythmic rapping upon the office door. It had interrupted a particularly pleasant dream involving him, a large pile of Gil, and a white sandy beach. The knocking continued as he bolted upright from the couch. Wiping away the drool from the corner of his mouth, Noel sleepily made his way to the door. His hair sticking in every direction, the worn smoking jacket he wore over his clothes half opened. Whoever was knocking better be a looker to wake him up at such an ungodly hour. Who in their right mind would be up at noon? Noel opened the door quickly, causing the intruder to continue knocking on air.

He was slightly shorter than Noel, dressed smartly in a suit and tie. Silver hair framed his oval face as green eyes stared directly ahead. Okay, so someone was smiling down at Noel. Mustering up as much of a charming smile as one could give before coffee, he greeted the stranger.

“Good Afternoon Mr. Kreiss I’m Hope Estheim, I’m here from the accounting agency.” The man said as he stuck out his hand.

“Accounting agency?” Noel asked slowly.

He hadn’t remembered anything on the schedule about an accounting agency. For that matter, he almost never looked at his schedule. Blasted things that got in the way of what was important. This Hope’s eyes darted around as he stepped into the room, his hands clutched tightly on the handle of the brown leather briefcase.

“Yes, I’m here to look over the books for your latest play.” Hope said calmly as he stepped on what appeared to be an empty pizza box.

“The books?”

“Yes, I’m here to look over the accounts and ledgers of your latest play.” Hope replied.

Noel led him towards the desk when someone knocked on the door again. Two visitors at an ungodly hour? What had he done to deserve this?

“Who’s there?” Noel asked.

“Hold me, touch me!” A young voice shouted as she continued to knock.

“Hold me touch me?” Noel asked himself, panic striking his voice. “You, in the bathroom now.”

“I don’t have to go.” Hope told him.

“Think of waterfalls.” Noel growled as he pushed him into a closet sized bathroom and shut the door. “One moment darling.”

Noel quickly pushed the garbage on the floor into a corner, flinging a blue blanket to cover it. As Hold me, touch me continued to knock, he made his way to a wooden armoires. Pulling the brass knobs forward, the doors swung open, framed pictures of a silver haired girl filled the cupboard. At first glance, they could have been hundreds of black and white pictures of the same girl. Some with her hair down, some up, some with a weird visor thing. However, each one held a slight difference. Panic took over Noel as he brushed his finger over each frame.

“Hold me, touch me.” The girl cried from the door as she knocked.

“Just a minute dear.” Noel called. “Hold me touch me…where is she. Kiss me, feel me. Lick me, bite me. Suck me…ah, here she is.”

With one graceful move, he pulled out the gilded frame from the cabinet and placed it on a nearby table. With the cabinet doors closed, he straighted out her robe before opening the front door. A petite girl with indigo tinted silver hair fell freely down her back. Dressed in white, she smiled warmly as Noel looked at her.

“Hold me, touch me.” She told him.

“As soon as the door’s closed.” Noel told her sweetly as he pulled her in, slamming the door behind her. “Hello sweetie.”

“Oh Noel, hold me, touch me.” The girl cried as she flung herself at him. They both fell backwards onto the couch.

“Darling, take it easy, I haven’t had coffee yet.” Noel cried as the girl continued to kiss him.

Hope made his way out of the bathroom, clutching his briefcase as he tried to sneak across the room. As he made it behind the couch, his eyes wandered to the tangle of limbs and disheveled clothing. With flushed cheeks, he ran back to the bathroom.

“Take me Noel.” The girl squealed.

“Thursday Yeul. Come back Thursday and I’ll play whatever game you want.” Noel replied quickly as he lifter her up. “Did you bring the checky?”

“Oh, of course.” Yeul replied as she pulled out a piece of white paper from a pouch she wore on her side. “I made it out to the name of the play like you told me to, Cash. What a funny name for a play.”

“Most plays do have funny names.” Noel told her as she pulled the check from her hand. “Come back Thursday and I’ll show you a future you’ll never forget.”

Noel pushed her out of the office, locking the door in the process. With a sigh he straighted his robe as Hope came out of the bathroom, his eyes shielded as he tried to make his way towards the door. Noel stopped him by the couch.

“I’m sorry.” Hope apologized quickly. “I didn’t mean to see you feeling up the seeress.”

“Feeling up the seeress.” Noel replied mockingly. “Do you enjoy watching little girls you pervert? Do you have any idea who I used to be?”

“You’re Noel Kreiss, famous Broadway producer.” Hope replied.

“No I’m Noel…that’s right.” He replied.

It was quite the rare treat to be called famous still. Perhaps this mouse of an accountant was not that bad after all. Hope smiled nervously at him.

“I had the great fortune of seeing Sweeny Tonberry a few years back.” Hope told him timidly. He reached for his wallet. “I still have the ticket stub.”

Noel looked at the faded, yellowing scrap of paper. One of his better productions, it had gone on for years and even a world tour. He handed it back to Hope, the man lovingly placing it back in his wallet.

“In fact, I’ve always had this dream to be a producer.” Hope quietly told him.

“Let me give you some advice.” Noel told him as he placed a hand on his shoulder. “Quit dreaming and get to those books.”

With a shove, Noel sent Hope to the desk. The accountant opened the green ledgers, studying them eagerly as Noel looked out the window. At least his latest backer had been quite generous with her contribution to his next show. Now he just needed to figure out what that was going to be. He could figure it out over lunch, as it would then be a business expense. Had to keep up appearances and all. Hope cleared his throat, Noel turning his attention to the silver haired man.

“Mr. Kreiss, may I have a minute?” He asked.

“A minute?” Noel smirked as he pulled out a pocket watch. “Go!”

“You’re timing me?” Hope asked incredulously.

“Tick-Tock, fifty seconds left. Time is money.” Noel yelled at him.

He continued to count down the seconds as an ever increasingly flustered Hope continued to try to explain a problem with the books. Noel didn’t have time to be bothered with such frivolous things as an error in accounting, that’s what he hired people for. People like this accountant who was currently running a yellow kerchief under his chin, mumbling to himself.

“What is that?” Noel asked.

“It’s nothing, just a minor compulsion.” Hope told him as he continued rubbing the kerchief across his face.

“Nothing huh?” Noel chuckled as he grabbed the kerchief.

That was a mistake. Hope’s eyes bugged out as he bolted up, his body tensing as his breathing became labored.

“MY YELLOW KERCHIEF! GIVE ME BACK MY YELLOW KERCHIEF!” He yelled at the top of his lungs, panic filling each syllable. “MY YELLOW KERCHIEF!”

“All right all right.” Noel backed off as he handed the crazy man back the kerchief. “Here you go, better now?”

“Sorry.” Hope told him as he calmed down. “I don’t like anyone touching my kerchief, I’ve had it since I was a child. I…I need to lie down.”

Hope’s eyes rolled back in his skull as he collapsed onto the ground. Noel shook his head in disbelief, why did he always have to find the ones a few cards short of a full deck? With a sigh, he stood over the accountant, better check to see if he was still alive. Hope was in fact, and once again in a panic, screaming about being stepped on. Noel resisted the urge to step on him, as tempting as it was he’d just have to deal with an even more panicked accountant. Instead, he let his anger out by jumping up and down, close to Hope. This caused the shorter man to crawl across the room, clawing at the wall to stand up. With agile grace, Noel was upon him, he didn’t want his office destroyed by some crazy accountant.

“I’m hysterical!” Hope gasped between large breaths. “I can’t stop when I get like this.”

“Okay okay, I’ll make it better.” Noel said, genuinely concerned now.

He went to the sink, poured a glass of water before calmly walking back to the gibberish screaming man. With a flick of the wrist, the entire contents of the glass doused Hope in the face. That should do it, it did it in plays. Instead, Hope’s hysterics escalated, screaming about being wet. Noel put the glass down before slapping Hope in the face. It wasn’t a hard slap, just enough to shock him and bring him out of the attack. Noel was not prepared for Hope’s screams to get even louder. Just how much lung power could one man have?

“You’re too close!” Hope screamed. “Get back!”

“Okay, I’m backing away slowly.” Noel replied as he put his hands up. With great care he sat on the couch, his eyes never leaving Hope’s. “Better?”

“You’re angry!”

“I’m NOT angry.” Noel lied through gritted teeth.

“Yes you are.” Hope told him.

“See, I’m smiling.” Noel forced a wide, tooth filled smile on his face. “Now calm down. Who’s my little accountant?”

That did the trick. Hope pointed at himself, a childlike grin on his face as Noel continued to coo at him. Soon enough, he was back at the desk, the books in hand. The yellow kerchief once again tucked away. Warily, Noel made his way over, praying to the goddess that this was almost over.

“Thank you for smiling.” Hope said. “Now, you have a serious accounting error. According to this, you raised a hundred thousand Gil for L’cie What You Did Last Summer. However, the play only cost ninety-eight thousand to produce. There’s two thousand Gil missing.

“I took a tour at some of the finer establishments of Yusnaan.” Noel replied casually. “Who cares? It was a flop. Can’t you do some creative accounting?”

“Interesting.” Hope murmured to himself as he adjusted the books. “If one was not an honest man, he could potentially make a fortune with a flop.”

“Do tell.” Noel asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Well, say you raised a million Gil. You put on a hundred thousand Gil flop and then pocket the rest. The authorities wouldn’t care since the play flopped. However, if it was a success, you would end up giving away six hundred percent of the show. With no way to pay the backers, you’d go to jail.”

The proverbial light bulb went off in Noel’s head, this marvelous good looking accountant was his ticket out of the poor house. No more would he have to wear repurposed costumes for pants, he could afford to get real pants, ones that showed off his sporty figure. He could retire to a little seaside village, far away from any military force. No more having to stoop to unspeakable acts with seeress’ in order to get his next meal.

“That’s brilliant.” Noel told him. “It’s foolproof. Step one, we find the worst play ever written. Step two, we hire the worst director who ever lived. Step three, we raise two million Gil.”

“Two million?” Hope asked.

“One for each of us. Stop interrupting.” Noel told him quickly. “Step four, we open on Broadway. Step five, we close on Broadway, take our Gil and go.”

“That’s illegal.” Hope told him seriously. “What I proposed was strictly academic. I can’t be a part of this.”

“Sure you can. Don’t you want to be more than just a nobody? There’s more to you than this meek little accountant. You need to take the world by the horns, make it your oyster. You can’t spend your life just hoping.” Noel told him.

“I can’t.” Hope complained. “What if we’re caught?”

“We won’t get caught.” Noel assured him. “I haven’t had a hit in years. Now what do you say Estheim?”

“What do I say? A chance to be a producer? A chance to live my dream?” Hope asked eagerly. “No, you have me mistaken for another person. Good day Mr. Kreiss.”

With that, Hope ran out of the office. Noel tried to give chase, running down the street, but lost him near a large fountain. Defeated, he fell to his knees, looked up to the sky with his hands clasped together.

“Goddess Etro, I want that money!”


End file.
